Earnest Failure
Sorrow of Weakness "Hah..." A pant could be heard on the lonely Sky Island. From on high, there were only a couple of individuals that could be seen patrolling and performing duties. Otherwise, the island was almost completely abandoned. This was the fortress of the Marines, Takamagahara, also known as Marineford. Right now, those who were in charge of this place had been dispatched into key Marine bases as a bid to reinforce them and ensure they were not swept up in the conflict between the Yonko, now dubbed as "World War X." The man who performed this sigh was looking over at the edge of Takamagahara, and down to the islands below. He was a man with red hair, which had just been cut from a former "M" symbol into a more simpler, spiked haircut that reached down to his neck. He had been sitting in classic Marine attire, with a Marine Admiral overcoat on the top. However, despite his status, the man did not fit the position he was meant to fill. This was Ernest, the newly promoted Admiral of the Marines. He had understood the reasoning for the promotion. This was the most logical conclusion that the Commander in Chief could reach. If Ernest was in his shoes, he would have done the same thing as well. No matter what, though, the burden that Ernest felt by holding this position was beyond anything he had experienced in his life. "Kaldor-san...Taste-san...Ryozo-san...Infinity-san...why was the only one allowed to live?" Beneath Ernest, on the ground, the grass had been soaked with water, with tears that he had cried. Despite over half of his body becoming cybernetic, Ernest still had human emotions, and nothing would stop his immense regret at the recent turn of events. "I would do anything to turn back time and save them..." Feet stepping over the grass sounded nicely around the area, a large old man, dressed in a grey kimono and with a marine cloak on his shoulders, approached Ernest. He had been walking for quite some time then, New Marineford was surely quite large. "Good morning, Ernie," A soft voice uttered out at him, pertaining to no one other than Rear Admiral Bambina. His arms were crossed, while the breeze passed by his body smoothly. Suddenly, Bambina stood sitting by Ernest's side and had pushed his cloak towards him, a cloak that looked extremely dirty. "See this? Bahaha, they gave it to me because of a promotion," It indeed seemed different from the one he donned around as a Commodore, the shoulder pads more highlighted, plus, it was way too dirty. Ernest looked to his left, and noticed Bambina present. "Ah, Bambina-san...Congratulations." Ernest said softly. Although he meant it earnestly, he simply couldn't help but talk as if he was sad. He had been happy that Bambina was promoted. He deserved it more than anyone. Right now, though, Ernest was swept up in his own thoughts. He wiped his tears, but continued to stare in the distance, almost ignoring the presence of Bambina entirely. "Bahaha..." Bambina doozed off, also looking into the distance. "Ye' a slow kid, haven'tcha noticed all this dirt?" Looking to his sides to see if anyone approached, Bambina winked at Ernest. "I use't as a floor cloth!!" "A-A floor cloth? Won't you get into trouble for that, Bambina-san...?" Ernest questioned the man. Even during this time, Bambina managed to stay positive. Ernest admired that sort of attitude. He couldn't reciprocate it himself. He was always a self-depreciating person, and this time was no different. He had been put into his place by the Xros Pirates, firmly. "Bahahaha!! They know better than ta' give me trouble for that," Bambina let his teeth flash in the morning breeze, he crossed his legs and arms. "...I didn't really gain tha' promotion in a proper situation." His gaze went into the distance once again. "That's... just my response to it. It wasn't justice, why should me be proud of it?" Another laugh, followed by a sigh from in-between his lips. Bambina turned to Ernest. "Then I thought I could just be proud... of bein' alive." A smile bloomed from his lips. "I used mah' to wipe my floor, you used yers to wipe your tears... both are just fine, don'tcha think?" Ernest's eyes widened at what Bambina said. It took him so long to realize that not everything that Ernest faced in life would be just. He wasn't the only one who thought these things, so he couldn't just sit here and mope forever. "Y-you're right, Bambina-san!" Ernest said with a lot more enthusiasm, and he stood up. "I still regret the loss of everyone who died in that battle. But there's more to life than justice. Just by being alive, I can prove myself to be worthy of replacing those who died for the Marines' cause...!" Ernest's voice was still hesitating. He tried to be strong in front of Bambina, but something like this couldn't be overcome with simply warm words. His posture slouched again. "Who am I kidding...I don't have that sort of strength." Ernest sighed. He didn't want to be around anyone. Until he was called for duty, Ernest figured that sitting here would be the best way to do things, without anyone being influenced by his weakness. "Pshhh," Bambina held in a snicker, "Go on, keep up that hidden drive of yers!" He patted Ernest's back a few times. "Yer human, Ernie, you have the capability to change yourself... strength's always there, we just got to discover it. It doesn't just come in raw power." Leaning backwards, Bambina felt the grass against his clothes, hair, and neck. "I'mma' take a nap, continue to feel yo' breeze, bahahahahaha!" Bambina snorted out, allowing his eyelids to fall shut, his head held by his palms. The soft sound of boots landing on ground was heard as a tall man appeared near the two. Dressed in all black with scarlet hair, the Vice-Admiral Valentine stood behind them. Quietly walking across the grass he made his way to the newly crowned Admiral and place a hand on his shoulder. "You know when I was your age I was Captain or a Rear Admiral or something. Look at you Ernie, you're in the big leagues now. Congratulations." Valentine spoke as he removed his hat, gazing down at his friend. "Ah...Thank you, Valentine." Ernest said, forcefully smiling back at the Vice Admiral. Valentine had also been a sort of mentor to him on this journey. However, Ernest just didn't feel like accepting these congratulations. At this moment, he would have preferred someone more qualified obtained the position. In these trying circumstances, though, where the Marines couldn't even trust their most loyal men...just who could be trusted? Ernest began to ponder. Was there more to his promotion than what the Commander-in-Chief told him? "Oof, you sure don't look happy." Valentine chuckled, slipping down to sit beside him. "Care to tell me what's on that mechanical mind of yours?" “Congrats, Ernie!” A loud and sweet voice echoed from behind the group of superior marines. An averagely tall girl sped across the grass, arriving next to the scarlet haired marine. As she would come into the sights of the sad marine admiral, her identity would become apparent, this was none other than Black Anysia, a marine commodore, known for her strength and hardwork as a marine of her rank, as well as being a student of the well respected Strato Varius. “Why the long face? I’d expect a bit more enthusiasm from you considering you’ve just been promoted.” Anysia said, her hands behind her back as she looked at her comrade with a skeptical look in her eyes. "How can you all act like nothing at all has happened?!" Ernest snapped, tired of listening to the drab his comrades had to offer. "You're acting like none of those Marines on Canworth were killed! Like this promotion wasn't solely made to appease the public!" Ernest clenched his fist. "Stop congratulating me like I deserve this position...! Please...the Xros Pirates already showed me just how pathetic I am..." “So make yourself worthy of the position!” Anysia snapped at the marine admiral in return, however, in a more inspirational tone. “Listen Ernie, I’ve worked under you countless times, and I and a shit ton more know how great you are, so rather than sit here and feel sorry for yourself, you do something to honor those who laid their lives down in the name of the marines and become someone who deserves what you now have!” Anysia said in encouragement, holding her hand to her heart, giving the marine man an honest and warm smile. "Is it really your fault they died? You can't be expected to protect every single life, that's preposterous." Valentine cocked an eyebrow at him, his tone was soft but grim. "Death happens Ernest. They died doing what they signed up for. I'm sad for all of them. But we can't dwell on it, that's for their families. I've lost so many students in these wars we wage I can't even count them." He glanced at Anysia and back to Ernest. "The kid is right, try to remember them for who they were and better yourself for it. That's what I do. I try to be better constantly." "I suppose it's unfortunate." Ernest stopped his outburst, and spoke calmly, as he walked past both Anysia and Valentine, though was particularly referring to Valentine, "That I don't take sacrifices as lightly as a demon." Ernest walked away, unwilling to talk to individuals who thought that imposing their methods would allow Ernest to simply wash away the survivor's guilt he bore. Ernest had decided that the next area he would go to was Takamagahara's large training grounds. Perhaps he would find more comfort in releasing his sadness and anger through explosive combat, as opposed to his tears. Robotic Anger Ernest had reached the training grounds. His body was literally fuming with anger at the statements of those who he had talked to. He had walked across the large field, until he came across a group of Marine soldiers performing training drills. At the front of those students was an elderly Marine. He was a senior among the soldiers of the Marines, praised for his mastery over Martial Arts: Strato Varius. Ernest was tempted to simply pass them by, but he watched the students' diligence and straightforward approach to learning. He was reminded of his younger self, always moving forward without hesitation. Those were more naive days, where he believed he could have ascended to the top of the Marines without help from his Pacifista enhancements. But then he remembered those memories vividly, of him as a child, undergoing tortuous experiments and being labeled as a complete failure by the Devil's Playground. They were poisonous memories that Ernest had constantly attempted to repress. They reminded him of his helplessness, and he supposed that he never really grew out of those days, considering what had happened only a few days prior. "I should leave before I am spotted..." Ernest told himself, and began to walk away, though his gaze seemed to be strangely attached to the eager students. "I don't think you understood me Ernest." A voice spoke from beside him, it was Valentine again. "Tch." Ernest grunted as he heard the voice of Valentine behind him. He was aiming to not be spotted, but with this altercation, now all of the younger Marines would approach him and congratulate him. Putting up a public facade was difficult for him on most days, and today would just be even worse. "Then what did you want me to understand?" Ernest responded coldly. He didn't want this conversation to drag on. "I'm sorry my threshold for this is far higher than yours, I don't mean to invalidate your feelings by saying things like that." Valentine breathed out, rubbing the mask on the right side of his face. "I think you're in the right place Ernest. So what if the promotion was some stunt, embrace it. They want to give you more power? Use it to make sure things like this don't happen again." A feeling pulsed inside him, something sinister again. Ernest is so sad but we could fix that right up, just a shake and...no no no. Valentine pushed the thought away, the eye beneath his mask pulsating angrily. "Ernest I believe you're better than most of us here, you care a lot more than I can. I'd rather you be an admiral than someone who isn't going to do much with it. As much of a presence as Ravinger is, he spends most of his time writing up papers on logias." "..." Ernest was quiet for a moment. His expression of anger could be seen transitioning to an expression of shock, as his eyes widened at what Valentine said. The entire area felt like it paused for a moment, as Ernest took time to process his reaction. "P-" Ernest was about to speak, but tried to cover his mouth to avoid being disrespectful. "Pashishishi!" Ernest broke out in laughter. It had been a long time since someone's humor had caused him to laugh, and he couldn't help but smile at Valentine's statement, even if it was disrespectful to his senior Admiral. "O-oh man...I don't know if you intentionally tried to make me laugh, but thank you Valentine." Ernest looked up to Valentine once again. "I'm sorry for the outburst of anger before. I'll keep your words in mind as I try to move forward from all of this. Although..." Ernest looked around, hoping nobody in particular had heard their conversation. "We should probably keep this conversation to ourselves though..." Valentine smiled back at Ernest. "For you I'll keep it under wraps. But I think it's well known my opinions can be controversial." Valentine waved his hand aside. "Don't worry about the anger, emotions have to be expressed. You can't just hide your pain and expect it to go away. Rather you yell at me than someone who might misunderstand." His eye pulsed under the mask. "Don't take it too hard on yourself. Okay." He pulled a bottle of red wine from his jacket and handed it to Ernest. "If you want to talk about it more let me know alright, I have an errand to run." He gave Ernest a hug and turned to leave. All of the eager students that Ernest eyed earlier were, indeed, tutoring under none other than Hakuma himself, Strato Varius, he donned his usual clothes except for his marine cloak. "HAH, KYAH, HAH, KYAH!!!" They all shouted in unison, some moving at the same pace and executing the same movement of the others. These shouts sounded through the entire area, as if their very spirit was being projected. Instead of just standing there and watching them practice movements, Varius was performing his own movements, movements that seemed to be quite different from the students'. However, close and accurate inspection would show that he was actually doing the same as them, but in such a pace that many of the moves were shown as images at the same time. About three movements happened on top of one another, Varius continued to flicker in place. Though. "KANTO!" Varius' voice reverberated like a sonic wave, knocking back some of the students, who braced themselves, and travelling across the whole scenario. "Y-yes!" The Admiral responded with nervousness. Ernest was of a senior rank to Varius, yet even he couldn't help but be terrified when Varius raised his voice. "D-did you need something, Varius-san?" "Very wrong answer, W-W-W-W-WRONG!" Varius continued to yell, each word shook the whole area, the students barely had a moment to maintain their balance. "You don't just come here and expect to have something other than TRAINING!" "O-okay sir!" Ernest was, as always, overwhelmed by the voice of Varius. He was certainly one of the most imposing Marines of this generation, and it goes to show. Not even the Admirals were immune to his teaching persona. “Sorry again, Ernie! After a short talk with ole Varrie here, I’ve realized my words may have more than upset you and for that I’m sorry!” Anysia spoke, running to the side of the white haired teacher, her voice reminiscent of Varius’ own in a few ways, her tone that of a low growl, still nothing compared to the bellowing of the bear who she now have stood next to. Indeed, that same bear breathed heavily, his arms crossed. "Hmph," Yet again, this same gruff shook the very vicinity. Varius observed both of the newly arrived Marines, though they diverged in ranks greatly, they were still the same: Students, that was most correct. Throughout the years, he saw those two grow in the ranks much like many other soldiers had, Varius had worked for the marines for well over 40 years, supposedly they were going to be just another bunch. But, they proved that wrong, they survived and got stronger, fiercer, Varius clutched his own fists while they laid between his arms. Lips curved down, he opened his mouth to speak, "Upset him, Anysia? Is that why you are stuttering, Kanto?" Varius looked at the each of them in accordance to his questions. "N-no, its okay Anysia. You were trying to cheer me up, I simply did not try to understand." Ernest responded in a bashful manner. "I would like to do some training, Varius-san." Ernest simply said his convictions. He needed to release his stress, this was the only way he knew how. "Training..." Varius muttered, shadows covered part of his face and eyes for that brief moment, the other students shuddered as a wave of pressure kept them from sustaining themselves off the ground. Once again, they were pushed back by another yell, closing their eyes and crying. "Tell me, ME, Kanto!" Varius held his right arm out, his fist closed tightly and pointed at Ernest. "What kind of training do you THINK you lack?!" Ernest thought for a moment regarding what sort of training he lacked. In truth, there was one thing he skipped out on after gaining his cyborg extensions, and he has regretted it since. "I want to...train in the basics again, Varius-san." "I could feel your depression all the way from the upper realms of Takamagahara, Ernest. My Kenbun went off like an alarm, I almost thought we were under attack again." came a disembodied voice from behind the two, as out toward them walked a silvery-haired man clad in a black kimono. Even without his coat, his identity as the Fleet Admiral was unmistakable. The man stepped casually toward them, arms crossed against his chest, as his eyes fell on Ernest, though he briefly acknowledged Varius with a nod. "Varius is certainly a good instructor. And returning to the basics is always important for any warrior. But have some god damn pride, Ernest." Kurama firmly asserted, standing naught but a few inches away from Ernest as he continued to address him. "Regardless if you believe in yourself or not, you were chosen to serve as an Admiral. You are an Admiral now, an existence that rivals the four pirate emperors, and who stands at the top of this world. Don't besmirch the meaning of that rank by thinking of yourself as anything less." he proclaimed, holding his right hand out and emitting forth his Busoshoku Haki. The black solidity of his aura took form and began to shape itself into the form of a katana, before Kurama gripped its handle, holding it in front of Ernest. "Haki is a power that resonates with your soul. If the soul is weak, if your will is wavering, your Haki will suffer as well. You can build up all the basics you want, but if you lack faith in yourself, you will never rise above the novice level." Kurama added, before letting go of the black sword and letting it vanish into a wisp, as if it was manifested solely to illustrate a point. Ernest's face morphed into shock. To see Kurama all the way here was something Ernest was not expecting. He listened attentively to his words, and could feel his disappointment tangibly. He was right. The one thing that always held him back was his willpower. Ernest was prone to achieving something, and then quickly losing hope thereafter. It was a trait he needed to learn to overcome. "...I suppose the only person that can help me find faith in myself is myself..." Ernest told himself, his face still sullen. But then a moment later, his eyes lit up and he turned to Kurama. "Kurama-san. In order to find out my limits and regain my confidence...please have a match with me!" Ernest bowed to Kurama, hoping that the Fleet Admiral would accept his request. “What’s up, Foxy!” Anysia said abruptly, inserting herself into the deep conversation the two admirals were partaking in, giving the fleet admiral a hefty punch to the arm as a greeting, a large smile on her face. “How you been!? Bet it’s pretty nice up there with all your hoes in your bachelor pad, huh?!” Anysia said, nudging the admiral playfully, a mischievous grin on her face. "A match?" Kurama responded, before being interrupted by the sudden arrival of Anysia. He stared at her with a blank expression, head slightly tilted, as he blinked once, then twice, the entire time remaining silent. Moments later, he held his hand up, projecting his Busoshoku Haki into the air around Anysia as it quickly took visible black form, physically resembling a cage that imprisoned Anysia. "If you have time to fool around, you have time to train for World War X. Break this cage with your bare hands. The cage will shrink if it detects any signs of Haki being used, until you're squished like a grape. Good luck. Don't die." Kurama firmly spoke with a stoic unamused tone of voice, walking away from the woman along with Ernest with a dry comedic expression on his face; likely ignoring any of her shouting if she were to attempt to protest. After this, Kurama returned to a serious tone, facing Ernest. "It's true that the best form of training is sparring. If you are determined to face me as your opponent, then I accept. But I won't take it easy on you. We're beyond the basics here, boy. I have no use for an Admiral who gets winded against me in a mere sparring match." he mused, making his way toward the edge of the cliffside so that the two of them could descend down toward the training grounds of Takamagahara. “Wow, rude!” Anysia yelled as the black cage surrounded her, trapping her in as the two admirals took their leaves. “Tch, guess it can’t be helped.” Anysia shrugged, pulling the shirt of her back, exposing her muscular figure, exposing her sports bra beneath her clothing. She would cock her fists back, setting her sights on the bars before it, preparing to release and onslaught of attacks on the jail bars set by her superior and break free from the cage, dismissing the two men to their conversation. "K-K-Kurama-san..." Ernest was a bit concerned for Anysia, but he realized quickly that the barrier was weak enough that an ordinary person could punch through it with enough effort. Someone like Anysia should be fine. Knowing that, Ernest made his way following Kurama to their next venue. He was hoping that he could prove, not to Kurama, but himself, that he was worth the position that he held today. The deaths of his comrades were sad, but nothing was more disappointing than Ernest's lack of self-confidence bringing further shame to their deaths. The Meaning of Power Upon arriving to the training grounds, a spacious region of the Marine HQ where many soldiers practiced and refined their combat skills, Kurama and Ernest took up one of the battlegrounds reserved for private Admiral use. It was large enough to support a considerable reach, giving the two powerful entities plenty of space to exhibit their abilities. Facing each other down at the center-most spot, the gap between them being at least a couple meters or so, Kurama rose his arm and swept it against the air as if to signal something. He had exerted his Busoshoku Haki into the air, which caused swirling distortions into the air around him before several physical objects took shape, resembling jet-black katanas as they floated in the space around him. Within that instant, at least twenty of these Haki swords manifested in the air space above Kurama, yet they remained stationary, as his eyes were focused on Ernest. "This will be just a sparring match, but don't let that fool you. Come at me with the intent to kill, Ernest. Otherwise, I can't guarantee you'll survive this spar. Use this opportunity to recognize the voids in your spirit." the Fleet Admiral remarked, before silently and motionlessly firing off five of the Haki swords at rapid speeds, piercing through the air like arrows as they pursued Ernest. The pressure was overwhelming. Even in this sparring, Ernest could tell from a glance that Kurama's guard was flawless. There was no way to break through to him without risk. But that was all the more reason why Ernest had to do this. His eyes shone red with Kenbunshoku Haki, and his body began to be tinted black with Busoshoku Haki. Among all of his attributes, Ernest's Haki was undoubtedly his weakest. On the other hand, Kurama was a master of Haki that nobody could compare to, even among the Yonko. For this reason, and this reason alone, Ernest had to rely on the one advantage he could possibly think of: his speed. Focusing his idle thoughts inward, Ernest's body began to steam, and he flew towards the blades of Haki without any reservation. Both of his hands, coated in black, clashed with two of the blades instantly, releasing black sparks that began to overwhelm the surrounding area. Ernest didn't forget the other blades. As soon as they swept behind Ernest, he maneuvered his body in the air to perform a forward flip, and as he tightly gripped the blades, he sought to throw them towards the other pursuing blades, hoping that Kurama's blades would destroy each other with the force they possessed. Of course, this was by no means the optimal strategy. Ernest was more often than not, a simpler man, who preferred to handle things with logic and his own power. Right now, his mental state was in a complete mess, and his perfect, cold logic would work against him. He had forgotten in his sadness that the opponent he was fighting was so completely out of the realms of man-made laws that foolish notions of reason would never reach him. Kurama was not an unrivaled master of Haki simply because his reserves could be not matched, but it was because his understanding and aptitude with Haki was so great that what was nothing more but a mere tool with which to do battle with for most users, was an art form for Kurama. No, perhaps even beyond that. None of his movements were wasted, and every expenditure of Haki was of value, despite the titanic volumes he had to spare. Ernest was naive to grasp those swords so carelessly like that. The Admiral's intention was fulfilled, throwing two of the blades he grabbed, hoping they would clash. And so they did, almost too perfectly. The blades touched tips, forming two pairs of swords that struck one another at the tip of their blades, with the fifth simply floating between the two sets. But there was no great collision, nor an eruption of concussive force from their exchange. They simply remained weightless in the air. Those swords were not simply weapons imbued with Haki; they were forged by Haki itself. They were extensions of the Fleet Admiral's will, and so, they were existences controlled by his will. A mere look was enough to halt their collision. Before too long, the blades rearranged their positions, all five once more pointed toward the robotic Admiral. But that was not the true danger behind it. Ernest made a grave mistake grabbing hold of a sword born from Kurama's will without considering the potential consequences of that action. Even with his arms covered in Busoshoku Haki, it would not be enough to protect him from an attack he was not expecting; that is, to say, assuming he did not see it coming. But whether he did or not, he would have to act quickly, for the moment he touched those blades, he allowed a point of contact for Kurama's Haki to seep into his body. Within the span of that moment, Ernest would likely notice the strange black lines running along his arms, ones that were almost impossible to notice given that his Haki-imbued body already reflected such a dark color. But with a sharpened Kenbunshoku Haki, he would probably be able to notice. If allowed to spread, Kurama's Busoshoku Haki was expanding down Ernest's arms like a disease. Of course, given that the cyborg had imbued himself with Haki, it might make it more difficult for Kurama's own Haki to enter inside of him. But that was only true to one who had mastered internalizing their Haki as well. Just a surface layer of Busoshoku was not enough protection. And so, if Ernest did not notice, and did not act quickly enough, he would find his body beginning to stiffen, achieving nigh-paralyzation. Soon enough, those lines of Haki would continue to progress until they reached his heart and shredded it. Regardless of how Ernest were to handle that situation, Kurama continued his relentless assault. Once more, those five blades fired off, aiming to pierce through the Admiral's body. But beyond that, the Fleet Admiral fired off a second volley of another five blades that followed behind the first wave. "I told you, Ernest. If you don't come at me with the intent to kill, then you'll die." Ernest was summarily overwhelmed. It took virtually no effort on Kurama's part. But that wasn't what shocked Ernest. What truly shook Ernest to the core was the helplessness he felt in the presence of Kurama's power. He knew from the bottom of his heart that half-hearted methods weren't enough to deal with the like of Kurama. "Just what am I doing!?" Ernest released jets of flames from his feet and dashed away from the pursuing swords, and thought to himself, angered. "You challenged him Ernest! Take responsibility for that challenge!!" Ernest told himself. But as the blackening continued through his hands, a shock sunk into him. "Will I...die here?" Ernest's life flashed before his eyes as he struggled to keep up with Kurama's dance of Haki. He knew it. The Fleet Admiral was far stronger than him. His spirit had endured through so much in life, and it showed through all of his actions. There was no hesitation in any of Kurama's acts. Even against insurmountable odds, the Sorcerer of the Sea kept that sly grin and overcame it all. "He saved me from the Devil's Playground...He inducted me into the Warlord Pacifista Project...He saved me from Daddy L. Legs...And now he is attempting to vitalize my spirit..." Images flashed before Ernest's eyes. Every moment in his life that he was indebted to Kurama was playing back at him. But this was not Ernest admiring the man...this was an analysis. What did this fearsome warrior possess that Ernest does not? What is it that continues to drive his spirit even at the lowest points of the Marine's history? At the forefront of it all, all Ernest could see was the willpower of Kurama oozing outwards and onto the enemy itself. Whether it was the world or a single man, Kurama refused to bow down. His force of will...was that the Meaning of Power? As these thoughts raced through Ernest's head, the Haki that sought to encroach his being had neared his throat. Any and all Marines who sought to view this battle would most likely have considered Ernest dead at this point. But this wasn't over. A scream echoed throughout Takamagahara, and a burst of power shot through the skies itself. The entirety of Ernest's body shone a bright, translucent white color that began to penetrate through the black pigment that sought to take over Ernest's body. It expelled every last inch of it, until the shadows that weighed down on Ernest's body and mind were completely replaced with light. The shockwave of Haki was so strong that the swords that Kurama had sent in pursuit had completely shattered in response to its overwhelming power, leaving debris of Haki scattered on the floor around Ernest. When Kurama next looked at Ernest, he would find a completely different man. Compared to the cybernetic parts that traced all across his body, there was only a single visible robotic organ: at the center of his chest. Everything else had become humanoid, and even the elements that Ernest had once produced stopped being released externally. Instead, everything was released internally to power up Ernest's body. "So that's it." Ernest told himself, as he looked upon his newfound form. It wasn't so much that his appearance changed, that his constitution did. "This body of Ambrinyte...it has been changing slowly over time, but I didn't think such a drastic change was possible." Ernest looked towards Kurama and bowed, before standing up again. "Thank you, Kurama-san. It was the risk you put me through that forced my body and mind to finally go over the edge." Bending his knees slightly, almost as if he were about to take a sprint, Ernest locked eyes with Kurama. "I understand now. I don't need overwhelming power. I don't need supreme confidence. All I require...is the willpower to see things through." Ernest softly smiled. "Let me show you the results of your training." Ernest dashed forward without even a hint of taking a step. The wind's movement, the ground's impact, all of it had been delayed by half-a-second. By the time Ernest had reached in front of Kurama, the wind had screeched and the ground tore apart from the strength of Ernest's movement. Both of Ernest's hands, now clad in a dense, but oddly glossy black armament Haki, were launched towards Kurama at a break-neck pace. Ernest targeted all of Kurama's vital areas on his torso. As the man had requested, Ernest was coming with the intent to kill. As such, all of Ernest's strike were made in completely straight lines. They penetrated completely through all defenses, using the principles of the Rokushiki's , and sought to cleanly pierce through Kurama's body. However, there was a unique phenomenon that was occurring. Before the impact of Ernest's fists would land on the Fleet Admiral's body, a pulse emitted outward, indicating of another force before the fist itself. What it was, his opponent would have to guess. Kurama stood tall before the devastation wrought by Ernest's ever-growing power, only his silvery hair fluttering with the tempest kicked up by the Admiral. His casual smirk widened as he could feel it; his Kenbunshoku picked up on the growth that Ernest's spirit was undergoing in this very instant. He could see it expanding and then compressing, reforged into something sturdier and stronger. It was as if Ernest has been reborn right before the Fleet Admiral's own eyes. "So all that research gone into you wasn't a waste after all, huh?" he mused, witnessing the force behind Ernest's power that not only shed himself of the Haki that Kurama drove into his body but also shattering the blades that went after him. "But..." He added, sweeping his right arm through the air. The Fleet Admiral disintegrated the blades that hovered around him, deeming them unnecessary, as with the same motion, he summoned forth a single black Haki sword to his hand. This one held a more distinct form to it; just from a glance, one would be able to tell the swords summoned previously were a far cry from this one blade. "It will take more than that, Ernest." As Ernest neared him, closing the distance under the time needed to blink, Kurama instantly realized the level of speed he was facing. In a straight competition between speed, the Fleet Admiral would definitely come up short at this point. But there was more to battle than just strength versus strength, or even speed versus speed. His Kenbunshoku was trained on Ernest the moment he sensed the evolution his opponent went through, and so, it was easy for him to predict such a straightforward charge. However, there was more to it than that. Before Ernest even got close enough to deliver that first blow, Kurama noticed the strange flow of aura surrounding his arms. Perhaps there was not enough time for Kurama to properly analyze what was happening, but it did not factor into his decision as to how to deal with the attacks. Rather than facing them head-on in attempts to block them, Kurama employed irregular sword guarding to deflect the force coming from each punch. With his free hand resting against the blunt edge of his Haki katana, Kurama swung his sword at a close distance, keeping the blade close to his person as he used the length of the blade to deflect the punches rather than blocking them out-right. In doing so, the force behind Ernest's Shigan attacks were not met with a collision, but were indirectly brushed off to the side so as to send the force of those strikes off to either side of Kurama's body. In a contest of speed, Ernest was sure to overwhelm Kurama's defenses at so close a range, but there was more to the Fleet Admiral's movements than mere evasion. Haki could be used one of three ways: emitting, imbuing, and internalizing. This was the highest level of internalization, known as Haki Shintai. Rather than Kurama's body moving based on the messages sent to his nerves by the brain, as normal muscle movement was carried out, the entirety of his body moved in unity with response to his Kenbunshoku. Every time Kurama moved, a faint afterimage of spectral light followed his path; almost to serve as a visualization to how unrealistic his bodily motions were in contrast to normal human movement. As if the physical laws of this world were struggling to keep up with him. Combined with his future sight, this meant his body could respond to the Admiral's strikes long before the actual strike was actually delivered, and thus, Kurama was able to seemingly match Ernest's unrivaled speed with every strike as a result. But this remained the status quo only for mere moments. It probably would not take Ernest long to notice the shift in rhythm. Before long, Kurama was no longer just deflecting the attacks, he was starting to exchange them with the Admiral, and soon after that... some of Kurama's own sword strikes began to slip through Ernest's own barrage. This was because Kurama was not simply seeking to weather through Ernest's assault, but rather, once he managed to get a feeling for Ernest's rhythm of movement, he started to deflect the force of Ernest's attacks not away from him but attempted to move swiftly enough to deflect the force of those strikes right back at the Admiral himself. Now, not only was Kurama deflecting his strikes away from him, but now some of them were being sent back at Ernest to collide with his own succeeding strikes. This principle was called go no sen in traditional martial arts. The way Kurama was employing it, such a tactic would require the receiver of the attack to redirect the force behind it and allow it to flow into their counterattack, using the opponent's own strength against them in the response. Kurama, however, was performing go no sen with such fluidity that every single one of his counterattacks were naturally weaving themselves into Ernest's own attacks, matching his rhythm while flowing some degree of the force he was putting out back toward Ernest himself. That, however, was just the precursor. It started with weaving his counterattacks simultaneously with his pure deflections, but before long, at an almost frightening rate, Kurama adapted to Ernest's rhythm so well that now every single time Ernest was striking the Fleet Admiral, his own force was thrown back at him. Before long, rather than every strike being met with a deflection, some of those counterattacks would manage to find their way past his own barrage. Whether this meant Kurama was able to land solid blows onto Ernest or not was difficult to say, but it did not change the shift in status quo. What started as a defensive battle for Kurama was now being so swiftly turned on its head as Ernest would now be forced on the defense. And the entire time, not a single bead of sweat formed on Kurama's face. Not to suggest he was not expending effort, but rather, to suggest that the Fleet Admiral, not even once, felt pressured in this match thus far. His cool and composed expression never shook even for a moment; he never once doubted his supremacy in this fight. Once he picked his moment, Kurama broke the exchange of blows, backing away from Ernest with a sudden Soru kick-off. But as he did, he dropped his Haki sword to the ground right where he and Ernest were both standing in that moment before distancing himself. In the same instant he widened the gap between them, Kurama's Haki sword responded to his gaze, losing its form as a sword and becoming a nonuniform mass of Busoshoku Haki before expanding outwards in all directions as a large wall of spikes from all sides; resembling a sea urchin as the Haki spikes extended outwards, aiming to skewer Ernest's body if he did not also manage to distance himself in time. Regardless, Kurama was already in the process of engaging his opponent once more. No matter how Ernest responded to the sudden change, the Fleet Admiral swept through the air with his other hand, summoning forth an array of Haki broadswords that floated in the air in front of him. There were four of them, each as large and wide as an average adult male's body, and teeming with an intense aura. Just as suddenly as they appeared, each of them fired off at once, piercing the air as they aimed to shred Ernest apart. Ernest's attacks felt meaningless. That was what he thought as Kurama began to adapt to his attacks at a frightening pace. Kurama's observational skills were par-none, and it went to show. No matter how fast Ernest had moved, Kurama was a step ahead. It wasn't a difference in speed, but rather, difference in dimension. Ernest was still operating on a single plane, whereas Kurama's thoughts encompassed every level. It bothered him, but he continued to try and break through Kurama's guard, but to no avail. The stalemate was broken, and in an instant, another threat manifested. As he dropped the sword, Ernest's senses were vitalized. He could feel danger within that sword, and he was not wrong. Through this entire conflict, his senses were developing at an unnatural pace. Prior to this, he physically saw his opponents, but he did not seek to pursue their purpose. All Ernest had ever been concerned with was his own progress. He never saw his opponents for what they were truly worth, and had closed off his mind. His mind's eye had been open, and he knew exactly what to do. Ernest did not view the construct of Haki in isolation, but rather, connected it back to Kurama. Kurama sought to force Ernest to retreat backwards, only to catch Ernest in a two-pronged assault. He couldn't allow that to happen. "I won't be ensnared again, Kurama-san!" Ernest spoke boldly. The spikes intended to completely pierce through him, but before they could, they were dramatically stopped in their path by an extreme pillar of pressure. "Rokuoto!" The aura surrounding Ernest became highly pressurized. The spikes were repelled for a moment, but they regained their momentum before long. However, at that point, any pursuit that they made became useless. Ernest had taken a single step to the eyes of Kurama, but his senses would register otherwise. Every movement Ernest had made was imbued with all of the six powers simultaneously. Each step had been multiplied , and within those hundreds of steps, made contact with the urchin-like substance of Haki. All of the bursts of air pressure were imbued with Busoshoku Haki. Although in the first strike, they would do nothing in the face of Kurama's Haki, these were not isolated entities. Hundreds of projectiles of Haki overwhelmed the constructs simultaneously, leaving the unfocused projectiles to be battered in the face of sheer numbers. All the while, Ernest moved forward to clash against Kurama himself. As he noticed the broadswords of Haki being fired towards him, Ernest kept his calm and analyzed their relative power. He knew projectile attacks like before were not going to be effective, so he sought a different method. The Admiral made an abrupt stop to his movement, forcing a strong gust of wind to follow suit. Though this momentarily dulled the swords' advance, they pierced through it handily. However, this was not Ernest's intention. Ernest's body made a twitching motion, and much like Kurama had been before, his body was briefly enveloped in a vivid rainbow. The invisible aura of Haki surrounding him had been reflecting the light, and without a warning, a number of after-images appeared in the air surrounding Ernest's body. These were made with a combination of Rankyaku and Soru, and it was a technique Ernest often utilized for diversion purposes. However, these clones were different. Each of them shimmered in front of the light like a rainbow. Indeed, these clones were imbued with Ernest's Haki, and through this connection, managed to become entities independent of Ernest, and they flew directly for the Haki broadswords, hoping to smash them into smithereens with a barrage of attacks. Simultaneously, Ernest pushed onwards towards Kurama's location. His body was still steaming from the effects Rokuoto had on his body, but now his speed had become even greater. He did not merely attack from the front, but rather, he sent out a slash of air pressure from his arm, the Rankyaku, towards Kurama from the front. Of course, he was not a fool to think that Kurama would be pressured by a single attack. He repeated this attack four times, attacking from each cardinal direction at different elevations, almost in the same instance, hoping for the slashes of wind to coalesce into a tornado of air slashes. In the same breath, Ernest ignited his fist with flames, and sent a straight fist of flames directly into the tornado he had created, hoping to land at least a single injury on the overwhelming Fleet Admiral. Kurama did not concern himself with Ernest's forward assault. Rather, his thoughts lay beyond him. Where his clones were fighting against the broadswords, once more did the Fleet Admiral exert his influence over his emitted constructs of Haki. There was one thing that, no matter how hard Ernest trained, would still escape his grasp that Kurama himself possessed, and that was Haoshoku Haki. Once those clones, born of Haki made contact in an effort to fend off the advance of the broadswords, the Fleet Admiral exerted his Haoshoku through the weapons themselves. At the moment of contact, his Haoshoku Haki flooded into the Haki clones, seeking to assert control over the very constructs Ernest created to fend him off. A bright light shone from their core, along with the screeching sounds of souls colliding with one another, as the dominant force of Haoshoku was destined to take hold of these individual and isolated masses of Haki. Normally, such a thing should be resistible, but that would require another user of Haoshoku to do so. Things would be different if Kurama tried to knock Ernest out, a strong enough will would have been sufficient to resist, but against separated Haki constructs that were acting independently of Ernest himself, when put up against the overwhelming might of the Fleet Admiral's own Haki, a struggle was certain to fail. Before too long, the shape of those clones, being twisted and reformed after becoming seized by Kurama's will, lost their resemblance to Ernest and now resembled silhouettes of Kurama himself. Of course, given Ernest's speed, there was little time for the Fleet Admiral to respond in kind to the incoming assault. The initial attack was easy enough to fend off, with the Fleet Admiral raising his sword arm to deflect the attack with sufficient force, but the true problem came in the form of the succeeding assaults. One after another at unprecedented speeds, the other slashes of air that followed the first one coalesced into a rampaging tornado that enveloped Kurama in its might. With the addition of flames that fueled the powerful winds, turning it into an inferno which threatened to burn the Fleet Admiral onto naught but cinders, a sudden eruption of force penetrated the tornado from all sides. Before too much longer, the tornado began to dissipate, shattering into wayward embers and gusts of air that flew off in all directions, as the Fleet Admiral stood at the former storm's epicenter, smirking softly. What could have caused his attack to fail, one might question, but the answer was soon detected. The very clones Ernest created to fight off Kurama had now been forced to switch allegiances. As entities of Haki, their speed bypassed normal physical convention, making it possible for them to engage the tornado Ernest created before any actual injury could have been done. That would have been ideal, anyways. In truth, Ernest managed to do something in that last assault. It was minor, hardly something that even caused him anything beyond discomfort, but it was a solid blow. Kurama's sword arm was lightly bruised, his kimono sleeve scuffed up, but a blatant wound had been sustained. It came from the first attack, which Kurama had to fend off with just a single arm. If given enough time, perhaps he could have dealt with it without receiving any wounds, but because he was focusing on dominating Ernest's clones, he could only push back against the initial slash so much with a single arm. "Very good, Ernest. There are not many among the Marines who could land a blow of any kind on me. But you made the mistake of supplying your enemy with more firepower." Kurama mused, gesturing to the clones that now fought for him. "Do not allow yourself to be rattled. Rage, grief, hatred... These emotions can sometimes bestow upon us great power. But those are merely illusions of power. True strength answers to those who can control their hearts amidst the chaos of jarring emotions. That is when Haki truly blossoms." Without so much as a gesture, the clones leaped forward, lunging for Ernest with a murderous intent. But as they did so, Kurama began his own genuine assault. Discarding his katana, letting it dissipate, he emitted Busoshoku to both of his hands and summoned forth a pair of wakizashis. "I believe this will be more ideal in handling you at close range." Speed was only beneficial in a fight of distance. When fighters were at close range, speed was more often than not a secondary factor. Therefore, in a close range fight, the ideal weapon was a sword with a shorter reach, like a wakizashi. He awaited Ernest's response to the clones before entering the fray himself. Category:Role-Plays Category:Ash9876 Category:DamonDraco Category:GeminiVIII Category:Dragon Lord Erin